Pedestal
by yeah-well-hey
Summary: Three years before the events of Book 1, Amon pays Zaheer a visit while he is in jail.


**Note: This story is set in the Spreading Fires AU, after Amon gains the ability to equalize, and three years before the events of Book 1 and Spreading Fires. In this AU, Amon is a non-bender with gifts from the Spirits. He is also trained in the dark arts of the mind.**

* * *

_Silent footsteps, and imperceptible designs._

I moved through the shadows, stalking the insomniac, the guard who could not sleep. He made his way out of the watch house, and towards the edge of the cliff. There he stood, admiring the darkness, as I slowly closed in on him.

He sighed. I held my breath.  
Exhaled, and grasped the back of his neck.

Immediately, he shuddered.  
"Don't move," I calmly warned him.  
Repressing the impulse to take his bending, I let him turn to face me. He stared at my painted mask, tried in vain to understand its significance. My hand gripped his right shoulder, felt the softness of the fabric of his white collar. He wore a deep blue tunic, and a cape.  
"Who…Who are you?" he asked me in a strange whisper, unable to raise his voice.  
For his gaze was already imprisoned in mine.  
I placed my thumb on his forehead, and peered into his mind.  
"Let the bridge out," I told him. "And lead me to him."  
"But I…"  
"Lead me to him. Go on, _metalbender_."

The guard obeyed and summoned the bridge that separated us from the rock pillar they had turned into a prison.  
As I watched him bend, I shivered in disgust.  
"Steadily," I said. "Do not make any noise."

I followed him across the bridge, and looked at last upon the metal cell that stood on the other side. At its aggressive structure, with its spikes and sharp edges. Above the octagonal door was a stone carving of the symbol of the White Lotus. I took a moment to study it, while the mountain winds howled all around me.  
My guide soon realized what he had done, and turned towards me, in sudden agitation.  
"What am I do– Who are you?"  
I drew nearer, seized him by the throat.  
"Open the metal door."  
"No!"  
Found his eyes again.  
"Open."  
_"No!"_  
Began to choke him.  
"Do as I say."  
Until he complied.

As soon as he had opened the first door, I blocked his chi and knocked him unconscious. Then, I walked over to sit by the steel bars the guard had unveiled. Inside, I saw a figure, a dark mass gathered in the corner of the cell. The strip of moonlight that had slipped inside now touched the prisoner's white feet.  
"I have not come to free you," I declared, before anything else.  
_Silence._  
"I am merely here to speak," I continued.  
"Then speak," he said at last.  
"I have heard of your deeds, _Zaheer._ And of the company you keep."  
"What company?" he sneered. "I've been alone in here for almost ten years now."  
"Forgive me. The company you once kept."  
"…What of them?"  
"_Benders._"  
"Yes, powerful ones. Prodigies."  
I folded my legs, adopting the lotus pose.  
"Impure beings," I corrected him.  
"Who are you?" he snapped, but I raised a hand to silence him.  
"Not yet," I said.  
"Tell me why you are here."  
"I already did. I wish to speak to you," I replied. "I've wanted to come here for a long time."  
"Go on."  
"I came to these mountains a few years ago, during my pilgrimage across the world. A local told me of your prison. A prison to keep you away, but also, to keep _others_ away from you, is it not true?"  
"It is."  
"Naturally, I was intrigued, and promised myself I would return one day to see it for myself. I wondered what kind of man you were. What skills you possessed, and above all, how you came to exert such influence over benders as powerful as your friends."  
"We have a common goal."  
"Yes, you tried to kidnap the Avatar. Why?"  
"To usher in a new era or true freedom. To put an end to the order of the Old World."  
"And this new era of which you speak, does it include benders, Zaheer?"  
"Of course it does," he replied.  
"That is your error."

Suddenly, he rose, and stepped into the light. I could see him now, his long, grey hair and his beard. The ragged clothes that covered his imposing frame, and the scar upon his left brow.  
"My _error?_" Zaheer asked, squinting, and walking towards me.  
"Yes. I, too, await the coming of a new era for this world. But I believe that it will not include benders. They are the reason why this realm is out of balance. The spirits should never have granted mortals such powers. Think of Avatar Wan. What do you know about him?"  
"He was the first Avatar. The one who severed Raava from Vaatu, and forever disrupted the balance of the world."  
"Not his gravest crime. He was also the first mortal who stole_ -stole-_ firebending from the Great Lion Turtle spirit. You see, the very foundation of the so-called 'gift' of bending is putrid. It is based on a crime, that of theft. A crime which has, for centuries, generated countless others."  
"How do you know? And why are you telling me this?"  
_They had whispered the Truth in my ear._  
"Because, Zaheer, I think we are not so different, you and I. We are non-benders who seek to change things. We see the flaws all around us, and wish to correct them. We both want to stand up against our oppressors."  
"Benders aren't the problem. It's the structures that are in place... The people who think it is their birthright to lead us. Like the Avatar."  
"You wish to serve Chaos, then?"  
"'New growth cannot exist without first the destruction of the old'. From Chaos, the world will emerge renewed."  
"Renewed? Chaos knows no limits, Zaheer. Its hunger is infinite. Do you truly desire it?"  
"No gods, no masters. That is what I wish. And the myth of the infallible Avatar is the first one that must be dispelled.  
"Yes, the Avatar's time is drawing to an end. But do you not see? Do you not realize that all the wars in our history were caused by benders? The opposition between us, and them. That is what brought all the pain and injustice that we must face from the very day we are born. It isn't about the Avatar's position of authority. It is about her glorification of the sickness of bending."  
"I don't agree with you. Many tyrants are non-benders."  
"Yes, but what would they be without their bender allies? Could they be even half as powerful as they are now? No, they could not. They would be on equal terms with the people they torment. That is what I wish. Equality. If one man is a criminal, then let him stand as little chance as his victim. Remove him from his pedestal, and let him look his enemy in the eye."  
"Bending is no evil." Zaheer retorted. "A man as holy as Guru Laghima could never have possessed airbending if it had been a sickness. He spent the last fourty years of his life untethered from the Earth, reaching unimaginable states of meditation."  
_Such futile, shimmering admiration in his eyes._  
"Yes, I have read about Guru Laghima. He wrote about instinct, and illusion. What was that poem of his? 'Instinct is a lie, told by a fearful body, hoping to be wrong'. Your instinct tells you bending is a gift, because you are afraid of a world without benders. A world where your friends could no longer bend the elements, a world where your friends could not help you tear down everything you hate."  
"You are wrong. You speak of hatred, when you yourself are full of it. I can feel it."  
_Yes, my soul was blackened with hatred._  
_I still struggled with it then._  
"Benders deserve nothing less," I said. "As for Guru Laghima, I will admit that he was a holy man who deserved the power of airbending. But so few of us are. Bending can be a reward for the righteous, but for most people, it is nothing but a _curse_."  
No reply.  
I shifted, rested my hands on my knees. My tunic rubbed against the skin of my wounded back, and I gave a soft gasp.  
_How many lashes had I inflicted upon myself?_  
_Not enough._  
"Zaheer," I began, ignoring the pain, "You have chosen to associate yourself with the cursed. Your friends are irredeemably poisoned by their own bending. And they have poisoned _you_ as well. Your intentions are good, but your ideals are misguided. Their only outcome, is Chaos. Nothing more."  
"Do not speak of my friends," he said menacingly.  
"I have admired you for quite some time, Zaheer. All the information I have gathered about you and the Red Lotus. Your strength as a non-bender, your sense of leadership, even your admiration for the Air Nomads... But you have a flaw. A fatal one. You speak of dismantling the Old World's order, and yet you still unconsciously subscribe to its principles by venerating the so-called "gift" of bending. For far too long, we have been told that to be a bender is to be blessed. That the Avatar is the greatest being of our realm. You believe these lies, and it saddens me. For there are few non-benders with your courage and determination."

_Silence._  
"What a shame," I declared. "I could have used your help."  
"You wish to recruit me? Is that it?"  
"I confess that I did hope you might want to join me. I hardly know why. I suppose I looked up to you, in a way."  
"Why would I join you? Why do you think _your_ way is the _right_ way?"  
I sighed, and rose.  
"Because the Spirits are on my side, Zaheer."  
"Who are you? Tell me who you are."  
"My name is Amon. And I have great plans for this realm. I intend to complete the mission that was bestowed upon me."  
"What mission?"  
"To rid the world of bending."  
"How?"  
"There is no use in my telling you. I know now that you are in love with bending, just as in love as the common man is. I thought perhaps you were different. I was wrong. And I feel pity for you."  
"Pity? I don't want your pity."  
"You don't believe that you are to be pitied?  
"No."  
"No? Tell me the truth, Zaheer. If offered the opportunity, would you welcome the ability to bend?"  
He gripped the bars in front of him and stared me straight in the eyes.  
"With all my being," he replied.  
"That is exactly why I pity you."  
I shook my head, ready to leave. The guard was awakening.  
"Wait," Zaheer quietly said. "I must know. How did you make it all the way up here?"  
Placing my own hands on the bars, right above his, I leaned in to better show him my mask. So that the traitor might remember it.

"'He who has spent his whole life hiding his scars, knows the secrets of invisibility'," I said, citing Guru Laghima, and then vanishing into the night.


End file.
